On the pugnacious nature of man

A Strange Gamble
A momentary flash
A deafening blast
An addition to the eternal flame
A statistic in the news report
Perhaps... a medal for bravery
A minute's silence, then forgotten.
The story remains the same
On either side-
Unless we quit this game,
Where no one wins.

The Aftermath
The morning after
Is painfully slow and uneventful
As headlines celebrate
Or fine print analyze the flaw
She recalls the storm wind
That came and went, and took all.
Broke forever an empty within
Photographs and incense are what remain
For a multitude unsungYet we must carry on this foolish game.


PoW
He wonders if the war’s over
If the sun still shines
And the days are as long,
Sitting in his dark, damp, quiet cell
He wonders if he’ll ever have an answer
* * *
That war had long stopped
And another begun
In a far-off peaceful land
They sit for an hour at a round table
And discuss the fate of his kind.